Voices in the Dark
by Sethoz
Summary: Tom Sawyer is not scared of the dark. He is afraid of the ghost's that linger in it though - a mixture of his imagination and his memories. Post-Movie. -Fin-


**Disclaimer:- **Another One-Shot from me. I was working on my other stories, this one just nagged and nagged at me until I gave in and wrote it. It's... a tad depressing I'm afraid... Just like always I don't own LXG or Tom Sawyer. (No matter how cute Shane West is.)

  


Enjoy and please read then leave a review!

  


~Voices in the Dark.~

  


When Tom Sawyer was about four he was scared of the dark. He didn't know why, not really, only that there was some kind of monster lurking in the dark, waiting for young boys to close their eyes and drift off to sleep before attacking.

  


As the years went on, he soon lost that fear, telling himself that he was a bog boy and big boys do not sleep with a night light. The years passed and the memory of lying awake, scared of the dark passed from his mind until it was as hard to remember as his parents faces.

  


A few days after he became an Agent for the American Secret Service, Tom slept with the light on for the first time since he was four. The reason behind it was simple - Tom had killed a man.

  


True, Tom Sawyer now lived in a kill or be killed world. He killed the man to save his own family and friends, a primeval urge to protect his nearest and dearest. The face of the dead man was permanently etched into his memory, the sound of his death as the man tried to take a breath, even though his lungs had forgotten how to. 

  


As night crept in though the window, Tom lay on his bed, his mind running over and over the death. Soon he began to imagine people who loved that man, people who he loved. The man must have had parents. Were they still alive, not yet knowing that their son was never coming back home to them? The man was _someone's_ son, just like Tom was.

  


The young American turned on his side and threw up, before staggering to his bathroom and scrubbing at his hands, trying to wash them. He washed and washed until blood ran, still feeling dirty. 

  


Then he returned to his room, cleaned the sick up and slept with the light on.

  


~~~ 

  


Time went on. Life for Tom went on. During the day he laughed and joked, the whole world being nothing more than a game to him. He was one of the best marksmen in the service, along with his partner and life long friend, Huckleberry Finn.

  


During the night he left the light on, fearful of the faces that lurked there, waiting for darkness to haunt him, twisted in there death agony. Children looked at him, orphaned because of Tom. Wives wept, because there husbands were never coming back. Parents staggered to graves, not believing that there child would die before them.

  


It didn't matter how much Tom tried to tell himself that these men would have killed Tom without a thought - the voices cried out to him, asking him; _why_?

  


Why indeed?

  


After the death of Huckleberry and his rejection by Becky the voices became more daring, coming from where the light of his night light met the darkness. Now the voices belonged to someone he knew.

  


_Why did you let me die Tom? I thought we were friends! _Huck said. Tom shook his head, trying to force the bile back down his throat. Huck was not really here, Huck was dead, it was only his own imagination, hunting him, refusing his sleep.

  


_YOU killed me Tom. Not the Phantom... You._

  


~~~ 

  


The stateroom Tom had been given by Captain Nemo was spacious and well lit. Even so, Tom knew it would not be enough to stop the voices of his own mind from attacking him. The first night abroad the _Nautilus_, Tom kept all the lights in his room on, his eyes scanning it, his breathing uneven and shallow.

  


The dreaded questions didn't come to him that night and for the first time since Huck's death he slept peacefully. The mission he and the League were on finished with the death of the Phantom and the casualty of Allan death. Though it all, Tom slept with all the lights on, basking in the absence of his fear. 

  


The memory of fear faded, as it is impossible to truly remember the terrified intake of breath as your worst fears are realized. Tom grew relaxed.

  


It was a week after Allan's death.

  


_Eyes open boy... can't protect you anymore. Not after you killed me. _The voice of Allan shot though Tom's head, making his heart clench together in fear. For a few seconds he even forgot to how to breathe as his eyes snapped open to show his room in utter darkness.

  


_...Oh God... _he thought wildly, his breathing becoming more and more ragged. It was as if something had broken inside of Tom, his mind working overtime as every man he had killed appeared in his room, their voices reaching Tom. He created families for them, friends who missed them. 

  


He flung himself out of his bed, gasping in sheer terror, his eyes wide. He moved forward, hands tightly pressed over his ears, his blonde hair covering his eyes.

  


"Can't hear you... can't hear you..." He muttered, as he fell over a table. It hit the floor with a smash, Tom's body not far behind.

  


_Why Tom?_

  


Tom Sawyer shook his head, trying to block Huck's voice. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, tears blurring his vision.

  


_I had a wife..._

  


"Stop it." Tom moaned, moving forward painfully slowly, intent of getting to the door and the light.

  


_I had three children..._

  


"I don't know that! It's just my imagination!" He shouted, his green eyes now filled with the unshed tears. His hands hit another table, slapping against the wood hard. He gave a small groan and began to edge around it, the fear gripping his heart.

  


_It was going to be my wedding a week ago... but you put paid to all that..._

  


Tom cried, the tears spilling down his face, leaving wet track marks on his cheeks. Thankfully at that moment he reached the closed door. Gasping in relief he pulled himself upwards, feeling the rough grain of the wood under his fingernails. He reached the main light switch and pressed down on it, the light flaring up. Instantly the voices stopped and Tom slid back down to the ground, bent over himself, hugging his legs, his head touching his knees.

  


"Stop it... stop it... stop it... stop it" He chanted to himself, rocking slightly. 

  


Tom didn't sleep again that night.

  


The next day he found out that one of Nemo's sailors had walked past and seen the lights on. He had poked his head in and seen Tom asleep so had turned off the light. Tom nodded numbly and walked away. Afterwards he didn't leave the main light on, just a little night light.

  


So the voices came back.

  


~~~

  


Tom Sawyer was not scared of the dark, only the things that waited for him within it. Sadly - for the American Agent - the dark creatures that waited for him were forever in his memory, just waiting for the darkness to let them go.

  


So even though he was a grown man, Agent Tom Sawyer - brave almost to the point of stubbiness - slept with the light on, to protect him from himself.

  


~Fin~

  


There you have it. Pointless? Most likely. Please leave a review and tell me what you think. Cookies are excepted and welcomed ;)

  


~Sethoz


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